Twelve Turns Ago
by Animal Arithmetic
Summary: Harry told the two his idea. He told them he planned to save himself from the Dursley's first, and how he was going to save Sirius... He told them how he planned to destroy every last Horcrux and how he was going to save them. Time travel.
1. Chapter I

Chapter I

As in we see things as they are, and never hope to be.

Harry let out a heavy sigh as he closed his eyes. "Alright, Zabini. Who's dead this time?"

Blaise shifted from foot to foot. The parchment in his hand crinkled in his nervous grasp. At Harry's harsh frown he gulped. There was a reason Harry Potter had become head Auror just three years after defeating the darkest wizard the world had seen yet, and there was also a reason he had kept the position for four years. Fame was not that reason. Blaise subtly wiped the sweat from his brow, disguising the action as merely brushing his hair away from his dark eyes. Now, how to tell Harry bloody Potter about this raid's death count. Blaise only wished he had updated his will before coming to the meeting.

"Well," Blaise Zabini started. He cleared his throat nervously. Harry continued to frown at him with harsh green eyes. Blaise knew that Harry did not hate him- or Slytherin anymore, for that matter- but the raids were wearing him thin. "Here's this List." Blaise handed him the parchment and hoped Harry would be less angry with him. "Those on the right side are at St. Mungo's. Or, at least they were this morning."

"That bad, huh?" Harry asked. He glanced over the right column and noticed Ron's name at the top. Another sigh escaped him and he closed his eyes for a bit longer than a standard blink. He pulled off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose to stave off the impending tears. He was almost too scared to look at the left half of the parchment. At his first glance, it looked like a long list- longer than it should have been. Harry replaced his glasses after rubbing his tired eyes. "What didn't I go on this raid?" he asked, almost to himself. Harry did not expect Blaise to answer.

But answer Blaise did. "You were having a well-deserved rest. When was the last time you slept, Potter?"

Harry swept his arm across the desk. An assortment of muggle and wizard items alike fell to the floor with a clatter. The parchment and paper fluttered slowly through the air with a crisp noise. Black ink dripped off his desk onto the carpeted floor below. Harry stood, breathing hard through his nose. Blaise smartly backed away, although Harry had kept a tight lid on his magic. Yes, this was one reason Harry Potter was so revered. His temper was well known within the department, and no wizard would dare purposefully provoke it, and if they did they usually found themselves winding up at St. Mungo's.

"It doesn't matter," Harry finally shot back as he stormed from his office. "I have to go take care of a few things. Can you manage until I get back?"

Blaise sighed but kept his mouth shut. Harry had already gone. The Slytherin alumni waved his wand in a practiced motion. The items flew back into their rightful places, as if Harry had never let his temper get away from him in the first place. Blaise thanked every deity he knew, plus some he did not, that Harry had not waved his wand this time. The man only hoped Harry would not punish others as the Dark Lord he had worked so hard on vanquishing had been known to do. Of course, Blaise did not think Harry would actually do such a thing, but there was always that lurking fear in the back of his mind that told him to be weary. He never ignored that small voice in the back of his head; it was what saved him during the war and in every battle he ever fought.

So Blaise Zabini prayed as he had never prayed before.

There was nothing, absolutely nothing, that Harry Potter hated more than his aurors dying. Well, Death Eaters tied for the number one spot on _Harry Potter's Most Hated_ list, but his aurors' deaths were certainly making headway at the moment. When he had agreed to becoming Head Auror four years ago Harry had not known how hard it would be to watch the aurors- _his_ aurors- die on missions he had sent them on. Harry had made a pact with himself four years ago when he received the position: he would rid the world of the remaining Death Eaters quickly and not many would die.

Harry had failed miserably. Four years and Voldemort's few remaining followers were putting up quite the fight. Perhaps Death Eaters were number one on his list of things he hated most. However...

Harry frowned at the sour thought. The Death Eaters had been led astray by the greatest wizard the world had ever seen. The thought of hating them for thoughts they could not control left a bitter taste in his mouth. So, his aurors dying was once again (for the third time that week from the same argument- and it was only Monday) at the top of his most hated list.

But Harry had an idea. It was not a very well thought out idea, but it was an idea nevertheless. He couldn't _not_ try it; doing so would brand him a coward. A coward, Harry Potter was not. He was known to do reckless things quite often. One could just ask Harry's deceased Potions Professor slash Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher (for sixth year only, please and thank you) slash Occlumency teacher slash hesitant protector.

Harry planned to do exactly that.

Why would he ask a dead teacher anything is not the question to be asked in this point in time. The why is simple, obvious; the how is more obscure. Harry had the idea, he had the plan... He just needed the details ironed out just a bit more. He also needed help. Help from a reliable source would be appreciated, thank you very much, and there was only one person he trusted.

His feet stopped him in front of the door that had plagued his nightmares for nearly a decade. Harry shuddered; even though a friend or two worked in the Department of Mysteries he had never quite gotten over his fear. Just a brief thought of his fifth year made his blood run cold. He almost turned away, but he had to do this. He _needed_ to do this, to calm his soul. Hermione would scold him for this idea, this plan, surely, but Harry found he could not bring himself to care as much as he thought he should have.

Suddenly, the door opened. Hermione shook her hair free from its ponytail and nearly ran into Harry. "Merlin, Harry!" she exclaimed, one hand pressed against her chest as if to still her racing heart. She smiled brightly at him and pulled the door shut. Harry appreciated it as she led him away from the dark door. "Whatever are you doing down here?"

"I need your help." Harry stopped not far from the door. "You've been working with Time, haven't you?"

Hermione frowned at him, obviously disapproving of his question. "You know I-"

"I don't care, Hermione!" he yelled, shocking her into a wide-eyed silence. His face contorted into the ugly visage of anger. "This is a matter of life and death. Now, how far can you send someone back?"

Hermione stared at him for several moments before she spurred into a lecture. Since the final battle she had learned to ignore his mood swings. She couldn't blame him. "Well, we know we can send someone back nearly twenty-four hours without serious side effects." She paused to leaf through a few of the papers in her hand. "Draco and I... We might've found a way to lessen the side effects, but we haven't been able to test it yet."

Harry merely grimaced at Draco's name, but otherwise did nothing. He was silent for several moments before asking, "What kind of side effects?"

"Go back too far and your heart may stop working."

An angry sigh escaped him. Harry closed his eyes and rubbed at his scar out of habit. Now what was he going to do? He wanted to go back a lot more than twenty-four hours. Harry wanted to go back _years_, and if he had done his math correctly, then he wanted to go back exactly twelve years. "What if I want to go back years?"

The young woman's eyes widened before she bowed her head. "Harry, you could make a mistake and change everything," she told him quietly.

"That's the whole point!" He turned his eyes to look down at her. "I want to change everything, Hermione. I don't want Sirius, or Remus, or Snape to die. I don't want Ron to land in St. Mungo's because of me." He poked her harshly in the chest, making her stumble into the wall. "I don't want us to grow up as we did. You _will_ find me a way to stop this all from happening."

Tears pooled in her eyes. Harry felt bad- he really did- but he had to be adamant about this. Hermione must have seen something in his eyes because she lowered her head again and sighed. "Harry, we-"

"Potter," a low voice said in greeting. Harry turned back to the door and glared at the blond. "I don't know why you are keeping our findings away from him, Granger. You know-"

"It's experimental!"

"If he wants to die trying to change things, let him," replied the indifferent Draco Malfoy. "Honestly, I want him to change things. This is getting a bit ridiculous, if you ask me."

"I didn't ask, but thank you for agreeing with me." Harry turned back to his friend and placed a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry, Hermione for what I said earlier. But... Please, Hermione. _Please_."

Hermione berated herself as she looked into her friend's eyes. She _knew_ she shouldn't have. She knew better! Harry Potter was the only person who could ever sway her with his lovely green eyes. She looked over at Draco- big mistake. His eyes were just as pleading as Harry's. Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but Draco beat her, his voice desperate.

"Granger... Hermione," he corrected, his face pinched in a grimace. Harry turned and faced him in surprise. "Even if you say no, I'll help him." Draco turned to Harry, now, and nodded. "I believe with just a bit of tweaking with our formula we can send you back... How far, did you say?"

"I didn't." Harry looked between the two and gave a definite nod. "Twelve years exactly. A month before my eleventh birthday."

Harry told the two his idea. He told them he planned to save himself from the Dursley's first, and how he was going to save Sirius and expose Pettigrew for what he really was; alive and the real traitor. Getting Sirius guardianship of Harry was his top priority. Harry told them how he planned to destroy every last Horcrux and the basilisk hiding in Hogwarts' basement before the younger Harry could learn of them and concern himself with having to destroy them as a child. He also described his idea to become the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher after exposing the possessed professor they had in their first year at Hogwarts. He would work there because it would be easier to look after his younger counter-part.

He told them of how much he wanted to save every single important person in his life who had died.

Draco responded by telling him he was being stupid. He rolled his eyes and pulled his knees up to his chest to rest his chin on his knees in a very un-Malfoy-like way. Harry was violently reminded that Draco was human, too, a fact he still had a little trouble with after all their fights in their school years. They had moved to sit on the ground- Harry sitting against one wall with Hermione and Draco sitting across from him- when Harry had started his tale.

"You can't just run around as Harry Potter," Draco told him when Harry gave him a hurt look. "Harry Potter will already exist, right? You'll need a new name."

Harry stood and began pacing. On his third time passing the two Unspeakables, he asked, "What do you suggest, then?"

"It's up to you though, isn't it?" asked Hermione as he passed by her again.

Harry continued pacing with a thoughtful frown. He paused in front of the two still sitting. When he turned, Hermione frowned at the strange twinkle in his eye. He was amused, yes, but by what? What about this situation was so funny? A grin slowly graced his lips.

"I had a friend named Felix, once."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Of course! But you can't use Felix Felicis- it would be too obvious!"

Draco looked between the two, very confused at their banter. "I don't understand. Felix Felicis is a potion. Why would you use that as a name?

As Hermione explained the significance of the potion to Draco, Harry pulled out his wand and spelled the potion's name, not unlike Tom Riddle had done in the Chamber of Secrets a decade before. Harry snorted at the memory and ignored the two who had given him a strange look at his noise. Instead, he studied the letters before him. Felicis... How could he change it? He wanted to keep the letters because the potion had greatly helped hem when he needed it. Well, that and he could not think of a better name. It was a great idea, using the potion for a name, but how to make it into a human name...

He squinted and waved his wand. What if...? There! Harry grinned bitterly and flicked his wand. The letters disappeared. "Felix Siclife," he announced to Hermione and Draco.

"Siclife?" asked Hermione, perplexed at his choice. "Why that?"

Harry shrugged, his green eyes twinkling in that eerie reminiscent way. "Now, for my appearance... I can't very well walk around looking like Harry Potter anymore. People would definitely question it and that could be disastrous."

"He's right." Hermione stood and brushed her robes off. She stared hard at Harry before waving her wand. His hair changed into a light brown and his eyes to a deep blue. Draco stood as well to get a better look and he conjured a mirror for Harry. Hermione plucked it from his grasp. She held it up so Harry could look at his reflection. "What do you think?"

Draco took Harry's glasses off. The blond frowned, placing a finger to his chin, as he studied the other young man. "No, light brown won't work. He still looks like Harry."

Harry grabbed the mirror and brought it closer so he could see. "I... I don't want to change my eye color. That's the only thing I have of my mum's." He tugged on a piece of the light brown hair, still as messy as always. "Let's try red."

Hermione sighed after waving her wand. Harry's hair was now a deep, messy nest of red. The blue melted away to show the original green of his eyes. "Now you look like Lily's twin brother or something. That might seem a bit suspicious; it's too much." She frowned and tapped her cheek with her wand. "Draco, what do you think?"

Without a sound, Draco flicked his wand. Harry's hair was now shorter and a dark blond. Draco frowned and waved his wand again. The scar disappeared. Now, Harry Potter was unrecognizable. He stared at his blurry reflection in awe. He liked it- he really did. Whenever he heard the name Felix... This was what he imagined. He turned his deep green eyes back to the blurry form of Hermione- well, he hoped it was Hermione; the blob had a lot of brown.

"How can I make this permanent?" he asked, handing the mirror back to Draco.

"They have a spell, now, that will fix eyesight," Hermione replied. She waited until Draco gave Harry back his glasses before she continued. "That is, if your eyesight has stopped changing. It should have by now. There is a... complicated potion we could try for your hair. Go to a salon for that and ask for a permanent dye." She watched the scar reappear and the hair deepen to black as the Glamour faded. "As for your scar... I would suggest make-up. You might have to go to a plastic surgeon for that." Here, she turned to Draco. "Do they have anything like that in the wizarding world?"

A raised, pale eyebrow was her answer.

"I take that as a no." Hermione turned back to Harry with a sympathetic smile. "I'm sorry, but that will have to be done in the muggle world. I'll help you with that. We can go do that now, if you want. It shouldn't be closed, yet."

Harry nodded with a smile. "You mean... I can get rid of this scar?" At her nod he gave her a tight hug. Harry would take any chance he could to get rid of the scar that had changed his life- and not for the better, mind you. He turned to the blond hesitantly. "Malfoy... Draco... Can I trust you to get everything ready?"

"Of course Potter- I mean... Harry." Draco gave him a pained smile.

The Man-Who-Defeated-Voldemort smiled brightly and clasped the other man's hand. "Brilliant! Thank you, Draco!" In his moment of happiness Harry threw his arms around Draco and gave him a quick hug. He pulled away, just as quickly, and ran back towards the lift. "Come on, Hermione!"

Hermione gave Draco an apologetic smile and jogged to catch up with the cheerful young man. Draco just rolled his eyes and went back through the door he had come from nearly an hour prior.

Draco Malfoy had work to do.

* * *

Two weeks, an eye appointment, a scar removal, a haircut, and a tweak of a formula later found the three young conspirators in the kitchen of an empty Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. Harry Potter looked very different since they had first decided this. He now had short, dirty blond hair, no scar, and green eyes not obscured by glasses. Draco hardly recognized him, and wouldn't have been able to easily if he hadn't known about the change in the first place.

Harry Potter was no more.

In his place stood Felix Siclife, a young man ready to change the outcome of the future.

Hermione had tears in her eyes as she hugged her best friend. "You're so brave," she whispered in his ear. "Good luck."

Harry- now Felix- smiled down at her but said nothing. What else was there to say? He turned to Draco and held out his hand. "Thank you for your help, Draco. What do you want me to change for you?"

Draco gripped his hand, but did not shake it quite yet. He stared into Felix's green eyes for several moments, judging to see how far he would go for an ex-Death Eater's sake. He had a hard look in his pale eyes as he told Harry his request. "Make sure I do not become a Death Eater. I... I never wanted to be one in the first place, you know."

And he _did_ know. Felix was already going to do that. He had decided that when he first thought of the idea- he was going to prevent Voldemort from ever rising again, and if he somehow managed to, he would keep Draco safe. Draco had never wanted to become a Death Eater, and Felix could not stand by and watch it happen again if it did turn out that way. So, he gripped the hand tighter and nodded his head. "Of course. I was planning on doing that from the start. Anything else?" Draco shook his head. Felix let go of his hand and turned to Hermione. "You?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, Felix." Over the past two weeks she had started calling him by his new name, if only to get him into the habit of responding to it. "Just do what you can. Here-" She handed him a small phial full of deep red liquid. "Take this. It will strengthen your heart. Take it right before you turn the Time Turner." She then handed him a larger version of the Time Turner they had used when they were thirteen. It nearly didn't fit in the palm of his hand. It was colored in a beautiful gold with intricate runes weaving about the surface. It shimmered and sparkled in the dim lighting. "Twelve turns, Felix. You'll land back exactly twelve years, give or take a day or two, back in the past. You must destroy it once you get there. In the wrong hands..."

"I understand." Felix slipped the chain around his head. He let the hourglass rest against his chest. He pulled out the stopper of the potion and raised it as if to toast his farewell. "I appreciate what you two have done for me. Thank you so much." He downed the liquid with a grimace at the metallic tasted. Even though he hoped this all disappeared... "Tell Blaise Zabini he's in charge now."

Before they could protest, he turned the hourglass twelve times and the world disappeared in a whirlwind of color and sound.


	2. Chapter II

**A/N: Hey, I forgot to mention last chapter, but as you can tell, this won't follow the epilogue very well. **

* * *

Chapter II

As in we see things as they were.

Felix groaned as he returned to the living. His entire body felt as if it had been hit by the Knight Bus. Twelve times seemed like a dozen too few to be completely accurate. There was no way he was going to work that day. Well, he declared that until he remembered about Hermione, Draco and that ridiculously large Time Turner. He was now Felix Siclife, blond, scar-less and glasses-less. No one here knew him and, for some reason, he felt elated at that idea. He was just Felix Siclife, some scrawny man who didn't matter in the grand scheme of things. No one would care who he dated, or what he did on his latest Auror mission. No one would stalk him and try to get pictures of him naked. Absolutely no one in this world knew he existed, that he had been the Boy-Who-Lived and saved their lives multiple times. No one would care if he disappeared off the face of the Earth.

No one knew him. He was completely, utterly alone. He had no friends, no allies, but also no enemies. _Yet_, the voice sounding irritatingly like Hermione reprimanded at the thought. Felix chuckled. Even twelve years away and she still was there to be his common sense.

But the chuckling _hurt_. Felix cursed under his breath as he became aware of himself and of his surroundings. The first thing he noticed- after the agonizing pain- was how cold he was. He was also very wet, yet it was not raining. At least, not that he could tell. It was quiet, wherever he was, for he could not have been where he had been last if he was wet from rain. He could smell the earthly scent and the wet pavement he was laying on all around him. The sidewalk was just as cold against his face. Perhaps that had been where the cold had been coming from. Felix shoved away the thought; it hurt his head to think so much. Plus the cold and wetness were making him too numb to think too hard. It was then he noticed the warmth at his lips and the metallic taste on his tongue. He struggled for breath that was quick to escape him. He could tell he needed medical attention, but that could wait. Harry and Sirius needed his help first and foremost.

Felix tried to push himself up- he really did try. His body hurt too much to even pull his arms to his sides, much less to push him up. He had yet to open his eyes, so he did so when he could not move anything else. He noticed it was dark out, and the sky was rapidly becoming lighter. Felix needed to get up before someone found him.

The time traveler pushed the pain from his mind and forced himself to stand. Five excruciating minutes later, Felix stood above the puddle of blood where his head had been. A shaky hand reached up to swipe across his head. He hissed as he came upon the injury at his left temple. His hand came away slick with blood. A painful cough revealed he had blood on his lips, which he frantically wiped away. He spat out the blood that had collected in his mouth with a grimace.

This was just _not_ his day.

Slowly, and with shaking hands, he lifted the Time Turner to eye level. The glass was broken and the shiny sand trickled out languidly. He watched, fascinated, as the sand swirled at his feet, despite the lack of a breeze. It was broken, yes, but Hermione had instructed he destroy it the first chance he got.

_Well_, Felix thought bitterly, maneuvering carefully to put the Time Turner in his neat little bag Hermione had charmed for him to be just like the one they had used during their Horcrux Hunt with as little pain as possible. _There_ _is no way I can do this now_. With that thought in mind, Felix pulled out his wand and held it out over the street. The Knight Bus popped into existence, surprising Felix and knocking him over.

The conductor stepped into view and started his spiel. However, he quickly noticed he had no audience. He looked down and looked at Felix in surprise. "What'chu doin' down there?"

Felix groaned a reply, too sore to do much else.

Stan Shunpike- for that was the conductor's name- noticed the blood on the sidewalk behind Felix and the blood running down the older man's face. "Bloody hell," he muttered, shocked. He jumped from the bus and kneeled beside the blond man. "Are you all right?"

Felix groaned as Stan helped him sit. "Yeah, I'll be fine. Just... I need to... I need to..." He needed to what? Felix was having a hard time remembering what it was he was supposed to be doing at the moment. He had a feeling it was about a boy... Living under the stairs... It hit him like a sack of brinks. Again, Felix groaned and put a hand to his aching head. "I need to get to Number Four Privet Drive in Little Whinging, Surrey. I think. I'm not... sure..."

"Me thinks you be needin' St. Mungo's," Stan insisted as he helped Felix stand.

The injured man shook his head carefully. He felt so dizzy. "No... I have to save him... There's a boy, there. He's in danger. He's-"

"I'll contact the proper authorities, I will," Stan told him as he sat him down in a chair towards the front where he could keep an eye on the man. "Oi, Ernie! St. Mungo's straight away!"

"_Not_ St. Mungo's straight away," Felix yelled at the driver. "I'll go after I rescue the boy. I'm the only one capable of saving him."

Stan sighed, but tapped the glass separating the driver from the rest of the triple-deck bus. Desolately, he told the old man, "Number Four Privet Drive in Little Whinging, Surrey." To Felix he said, "My name is Stan Shunpike. What were you doin' to get in a state like this?"

Felix stared up at the younger man in a daze. The Knight Bus shot off, but Felix looked unfazed by the sudden movement. "'m Neville," he replied automatically. He shook his head and furrowed his brows in confusion. "No... Not right. 'm Felix, I am. Neville's a friend, you know? Or rather, he was my friend. I'm not sure anymore. Haven't talked to that bloke in a while, though you can't blame him," Felix rambled on. "Felix Siclife, I think my name is. What color is my hair?"

The teenager winced at the blood coating the left side of his head. The whole left side of his head was glistening with the red liquid and it even ran down to pool in his collarbone. Most of the blue t-shirt had turned a dark brown from all the blood. Stan was worried Felix had lost too much. Plus, the man was soaked to the bone. Stan grabbed a towel and placed it around the shivering man. He wondered how long Felix had been lying out there and cursed himself for not making the injured man go to St. Mungo's first. When Felix's eyes started drooping, Stan vividly remembered a lesson his mother had taught him; never let someone with a head injury go to sleep until a doctor said it was all right. A concussion, she had said, and if this wasn't a head injury on the stranger Stan Shunpike didn't know what was.

"Oi, Felix." Stan tapped on the not-so-bloody side of the injured man's face. "Stay awake."

"'m tired..." Felix moaned. His head lolled back dangerously. "I haven't any money, neither..."

Stan merely shushed him and tried to keep him awake for the rest of the ride. It was a long ride, simply for the fact that Stan was so frightened of Felix Siclife dying in his arms. Well, the man wasn't technically in his arms, but Stan felt it was about to come to that the way the stranger was swaying in his seat. Stan had a hand on Felix the entire time to try to keep him steady. After a while, and when Felix had done nothing to dry himself, Stan waved his wand and dried him off himself. He placed the towel firmly to the bleeding temple. The man still shivered, as if robe-less in the middle of winter. It was, in fact, _not_ the middle of winter; it was the middle of July. Stan grimaced at the blood running sluggishly down Felix's face from the gash on his temple. He could have sworn he saw the bone, but passed it off as a trick of the light when staring at it made him feel rather queasy. Stan had no idea how to address head wounds, so he just pressed the towel to the gash and prayed Ernie would drive faster.

Soon enough they arrived at Number Four Privet Drive. Stan shook the man and told him they were there. Felix murmured, "Please stay for a bit." Stan had no intention of leaving the poor injured man stranded in a muggle suburb. Besides, wasn't the motto for the Knight Bus to pick up any stranded witch or wizard?

Felix hugged the bag to his chest and held his wand tightly in his other hand. He gathered his wits in front of the door. Distractedly, he wondered what time it was. The sun was up by now, and had been for a little while by its position peaking above the house behind him. He sneered at the house in front of him. He hated being here; he hadn't been here since his seventeenth birthday. Without further ado, he rapped his knuckles against the door of Number Four Privet Drive of Little Whinging, Surrey.

Several seconds passed before a tall, thin, horse-like woman answered the door. Her eyes, harsh and unfriendly, bore into Felix's. She took in the blood with a look of disgust. "If you've bloodied up the drive, I'll-"

Felix held up his wand. "I'm one of _them_, Mrs. Dursley. I am here for Mr. Potter."

"There is no-"

"I know he is here, Petunia," Felix intoned, skillfully hiding the slur in his words. He pointed the wand directly at her; he had no fear of retribution if he hexed her. "I've been through hell to get here, and I know you don't want him. He's just a burden to you, isn't he?" Both noticed the trembling wand, but Petunia tactfully kept quiet. She recognized the crazed look in his eye. Felix pushed past her and went straight for the cupboard under the stairs that had been his bedroom for the better part of ten long years. He pointed his wand at the locks and they flew off with a light clang.

Felix slowly pulled the cupboard door open to reveal a small and rather skinny boy with wild black hair and brilliant green eyes. His clothes were several sizes too big for his tiny frame. The round glasses hanging on his nose were only held together by nearly an entire roll of scotch tape. A thin scar in the shape of a bolt of lightning marred his forehead. The green eyes- so eerily similar to Felix's- widened to an impossible degree. Felix grinned down at him and waved.

"Hullo, Mr. Potter." Felix certainly felt strange saying that to himself. "I am here to collect you. If you will please go to the bus waiting for you outside, I will gather your things for you." Harry nodded vigorously and hurriedly put on his shoes. He all but bolted out the door just as Vernon Dursley came thundering down the stairs.

"What the blazes is going on here!" he yelled, quickly turning red.

Felix calmly started placing the items he knew Harry would want in his special green bag. He knew what was important and where all the hidden stashes were. As he gathered his younger self's things, he answered Mr. Dursley, "Why, sir, I'm only taking Harry Potter off your hands for you. You don't want him- he's only a burden to you."

Vernon bristled at the calm tone in the younger man's voice. "Then I want compensation!"

Suddenly a stick was at his throat. Vernon fell silent, quickly turning purple in anger. He was not as angry as one Felix Siclife. "You do _not_-" Felix spat, pushing the holly wand further into the hardly-there neck "-put a price on someone's life! Do you understand me, Dursley?" Felix loved the feeling of power he had over his uncle. Vernon was trembling, but Felix was not sure if it was in anger or fear. Felix hoped it was the latter. Finally, Vernon nodded and backed away. "Good," said Felix, turning back to the cupboard. "I won't tell a soul about this. I could report you to the authorities, you know. For abuse, of course." He relished in the satisfaction of causing their quickly paling faces. "But I won't. That would be rude of me, since I _am_ kidnapping your nephew." He gave them a cheeky grin and briskly walked back to the purple bus waiting at the curb.

Once on the bus, Felix collapsed on a chair as if he was a puppet and his strings had been cut. He pressed a hand to his aching head and groaned yet again. Even that small confrontation had taken a lot out of him. "Take me to... to... There's this... He'd be able to... Take... I..."

Stan slapped his face lightly, so as not to injure him further, to keep the man conscious. "Oi, stay with me, Felix. You, keep 'im awake. Ernie! St. Mungo's on the double!"

"No," Felix moaned, grabbing Harry's arm to steady himself. "Slipnor... Splendor... Splendid... Splinted? No... Spinner's End! Spinner... Spinner's End... Yeah, where Snape lives. He'll help me. He'll save me from the big bad wolfie... Yeah, he always protected me..."

Harry and Stan exchanged looks as the delirious man rambled on. "Alrigh', Ernie. Severus Snape's place."

"What's going on-"

"Don' ask questions," Stan snapped, pressing the soiled towel back to the wound on Felix's temple.

Harry bit his lip and asked hesitantly, "What do we do now?"

Stan sighed and closed his eyes. He was weary after a long night and now this. "All we can do is wait."

One very long and silent hour later found the Knight Bus in front of the house of Severus Snape. Harry was slightly skeptical that the man inside would be willing to help them. If he was honest with himself, the neighborhood did not look all that friendly. Still, he did as he was told and helped the injured and hardly conscious man- Felix, he vaguely remembered- off the bus and to the door. Stan had hesitantly disappeared when Felix had waved him off, telling the younger man he'd be fine. Harry struggled under Felix's heavy body as he tried to knock on the door. He managed a light tap, but the door still opened a few seconds later.

The inside of the house was dark, Harry noticed, and with the little light shining in he saw that every wall was covered with bookshelves. A tall, dark clothed man sneered down at him, but Harry bit back the insatiable need to whimper in fright. His skin was sallow, and his eyes were a cold, empty black that reminded Harry of a dark tunnel. Those two dark eyes drilled into him unnervingly so, making Harry cringe and almost drop Felix. _Yes_, Harry decided, _I will never make this man angry. Ever._

"Excuse me, sir?" Harry said, sounding much braver than he felt. "This man- Felix is his name- he's injured, sir, and he wouldn't go to St. Mungo's. He said only you were able to help him." At the glare from the tall man, Harry added, "Sir."

The black eyes continued to stare into his very soul. "And why, pray tell, would I help a complete stranger?"

"He... He said that you will save him from a wolf," Harry replied, looking between the two men. "But he _was_ a bit delusional. Please, sir, Stan Shunpike told me he may have a concussion! _Sir_. And he's bleeding an awful lot. He was bleeding when he came and saved m- I mean, picked me up from my Aunt's house over an hour ago." Harry started fidgeting under the harsh gaze. "We had a towel pressed to the wound," he continued quickly. "But it was so soiled by the time we got here that it's of no use anymore. Please help us."

Harry stumbled as Felix became complete deadweight on top of him. Felix was mumbling, but Harry could not make out the fevered words. Felix struggled with his small bag and pulled out a large hourglass. "I need you to destroy this, with Fiendfyre, preferably," he managed to say somewhat coherently. "It's important that it be destroyed immediately. After that... I need to talk with you."

Snape glared down his abnormally large nose at the two. His upper lip curled back to reveal crooked yellow teeth. If Harry hadn't been holding the limp man up, he would have cowered in fright. Finally, and much to Harry's relief, Snape stood aside to let them in.

"Lay him on the sofa," he ordered as they entered the small house. The lights came on as soon as the door closed. Harry did as he was told and Snape, sneering at the pair, crossed the small room to another door with the hourglass. He stalked through it and came back several minutes later with what looked like a first aid kit, a large bowl, and a white towel. The hourglass was not with him. Harry backed away from the sofa as he neared. Snape looked over at him and asked, "What did you say your names were?"

"I'm Harry Potter, sir," Harry replied, tugging at the end of his large shirt. "This is Felix, but I don't know his last name. Sir... Please tell me what's going on."

Instead of answering (why he had to answer to such a dunderhead anyway was beyond him) Snape filled the bowl with water with a wave of his wand. The boy gasped and Snape looked up. With a roll of his dark eyes he asked, "What's wrong _now?_"

"How did you do that?"

"Do what?"

The boy looked at him as if he were stupid, or had grown a second head. "The water poured from that stick! What's the trick behind it?"

Snape glared harshly at him before going back to cleaning the wound. "It's magic, you imbecile."

The green eyes widened. "But there's no such thing as magic!"

"No such thing as magic!" Snape roared, turning a full, heated glare at the cowering boy. "I'll assure you, _boy_, that there _is_ such a thing as magic. It's what killed your parents."

Harry pulled out of his fright at Snape's last words. "Killed my parents? My parents died in a car crash because they were drunks-"

"LIES!" Snape was on his feet, towering over the tiny boy. "Your father may have been an arrogant prick, but even I know he would not be a drunk. Your mother never would have touched more than one drink no matter what the occasion! Who told you this rubbish?"

"Can we get to that when I'm not dying?" asked a weak voice below them. "I'll explain everything later, Harry. I promise. Snape, I'll explain everything to you now, if Harry will be allowed to leave the room."

Harry looked almost upset at this but he said nothing. He knew he shouldn't push, shouldn't question. He'd learned that from Uncle Vernon quite a few times. A cuff about his head would be the only thing for his impudence. So, instead of saying anything, he hung his head and shuffled back out of Snape's reach, just in case he would hit him, too. He cringed, readying himself to either brace himself for the slap or run if Snape showed any sign of harming him.

Severus Snape caught the look immediately. His harsh exterior fell as cold dread slipped in past his defense. Harry was afraid of him. Harry was afraid he would hit him, and he braced himself in a way that seemed almost practiced. Snape backed away from the boy and turned back to the injured man to occupy his mind so he wouldn't have to think about James Potter's son. He clenched his fists and glared at the back of the sofa. "Go wait in the kitchen," he told the boy. Harry only nodded and scampered to the room he was to wait in. "And touch nothing!"

"Yes sir!"

Snape waved his wand over the door so sound could not escape the room. He turned back to the injured man. "Start talking."

Felix stumbled through an explanation. He started with the Time Turner and jumped around. His mind would not stay on one track, and it was starting to annoy Snape, but he said nothing as Felix rambled on. Felix told him how he needed the Potion Professor's help if he wanted to succeed. He told him everything he had said to Draco and Hermione, and he mentioned that strange meeting. He did not give the man his real name, but he let all his motives out into the air. He explained about Peter Pettigrew and Sirius Black, and how he wanted to free Sirius to take care of Harry because Harry needed him. Snape scowled at that part, but kept silent. Felix was glad, because he figured if he stopped now he would not be able to start back up again. Felix continued that train of thought and said he had no money, but he would once they got Harry's key and used that to get into the vault and he would pay him back once he could get to the money. He told Snape about his death, and that he wanted to prevent it because he admired the man so much for everything he had done. Snape calmly reminded him that he had not done those things, and Felix hesitated to continue.

Finally, he got the nerve to tell the older man about the Horcrux Hunt and how he needed to find them before Harry or Dumbledore could.

He finished by telling Severus Snape how much he trusted him to keep this a secret, and that he trusted for him to finish his quest if Felix somehow died from it. Snape agreed to finish his task after a long moment of silence.

As Felix rambled on about the war and of his plans to change things, Severus Snape paid strict attention to every detail no matter how insignificant it might have seemed. He did not doubt Felix for a minute, but he did at first. The whole situation was just too bizarre to actually be real. It did not help that Felix struggled to stay awake and coherent throughout his tirade as Snape stitched the gash on his head back up. The gash looked positively painful. If what Felix was saying was true, then the wound made sense if he was thrown from Grimmauld Place and its powerful wards so violently. It would worry Snape more if Felix had come from the ordeal unscathed.

Snape tied off the last stitch and sat back to watch the silent Time Traveler. The vivid green eyes stared right back at him, still slightly glazed over from pain. Snape pressed a vial to the pallid lips. Felix drank that one and two more before Snape decided Felix lucid enough to ask him a question he would be able to answer. "Why me and not Dumbledore?"

"Dumbledore always kept things from me," Felix replied. "I can trust him, but not to the extent that I trust you. I cannot do this alone, and I only want _your _help."

Snape nodded. "What do you need me to do?"

Felix sighed and closed his eyes with a smile. "So you believe me." It wasn't a question, and Felix wasn't looking for an answer. He plowed on before Snape could say anything. "That's good that you do. If I tell you to do something, will you carry out the task or follow my advice without question?"

"I will."

"And if it appears I could die on one of my tasks?"

"I will not question you."

"You will not stop me," Felix corrected, narrowing his eyes. "Promise it."

"Would you like a Wizard Oath?"

Felix shook his head gingerly. "I'll take your word for it."

Snape was honestly pleasantly surprised at Felix's words. "Then of course I will promise not to stop you or question you."

Felix gave him a sad smile. "And can you promise not to be so harsh on Harry? He's had a similar childhood as you. He slept in a cupboard for ten years of his life and he was belittled every day. I'm not saying you have to treat him like a hero or anything. Just..." Felix looked away. "Treat him like you would every other student. That's what I liked about you."

"I could... do that," Snape replied. His expression suggested he had eaten something rather disgusting that he wished he had never thought to try in the first place.

Felix smiled up at him before grimacing and clutching at his chest. He cried out in pain and twisted, as if trying to separate his body from the excruciating pain. Snape ripped away the bloodied shirt to expose a dark bruise on the left side of Felix's chest. He swore and rummaged through his first aid kit for something that could help Felix's heart. He pulled out a phial and shook it to make sure the ingredients hadn't separated. Quickly, he administered the potion. Snape fumbled through the medical kit again and pulled out a paste. Gently, but just as quick, he rubbed the paste over the dark bruise that was slowly spreading. He released a sigh of relief when the bruising stopped and Felix's breathing became easier.

An idea came to him, then, and he shifted through his kit to find the next potion he needed. He swiftly pulled out the stopper once it was found. Felix tried to refuse to drink the potion, but Snape easily overpowered the weakened man. He poured the vile liquid down the poor man's throat and sat back to watch the results. With a few painful sounding pops of ribs snapping back into place and a groan to accompany it, Felix was able to breathe again. He gave Snape what he hoped was a thankful look before passing out.

Snape sighed and sat back to roll the tense knots out of his shoulders. He gathered up his kit, all the while keeping an eye on Felix. He would have to watch that heart problem, and he should have looked at it as soon as Felix told him about Hermione's prediction. Snape berated himself for the mistake that could have cost the man his life as he cleaned the blood from the sofa and floor with a flick of his wand. Felix's hair was still matted with blood from where Snape could not get it out all the way. It bothered Snape, for some strange reason, but perhaps it was because he sympathized with his two guests. He conjured a blanket and placed it over the unconscious man before heading to keep his other guest company.

"Potter... Harry," Snape said as he entered the kitchen, startling Harry who had been sitting on a chair looking rather bored out of his mind. Snape tore down the silencing charm as he passed through the door. "You may stay in the guest bedroom for the time being. We are working out a way to free your godfather, which you have no need to concern yourself over."

Harry nodded enthusiastically. At long last, someone was telling him what was going on! Wait a second... "I have a godfather?"

"Yes." Snape busied himself with making tea while they waited for Felix to wake again. As he did this, Snape decided to be nice to the boy. For _one day only_. After a few slightly awkward silent minutes the tea was ready. Snape served a cup to his guest who gave him a confused look in return. "You drink it."

"I know, but..." Harry bit his lip and shrunk back in his seat, as if afraid to speak his mind. Glancing through his fringe he said, "I thought freaks weren't allowed to have tea."

"Then I shall break that rule with you," said Snape, sipping at his own tea. "I do not believe I told you my name. Severus Snape, though you will be calling me Professor Snape."

"Why?"

When Snape shot him a look, Harry instantly huddled as far back into his chair as he could. "I'm sorry. I won't ask questions."

"Question are good, Mr. Potter," Snape replied easily. "And since you are just bursting at the seams," Snape raised an eyebrow in his direction, "I am sure I may be able to answer your questions as our friend is indisposed at the moment."

Harry practically bounced in his seat at the implication of such a simple sentence. He could ask whatever he wanted, and he wouldn't get punished! Harry felt rather gleeful at the man's sudden change of attitude. "Alright! My first question: Magic is _real?_"

Snape sighed and rubbed his temples to ward off an impending headache. This was going to be a long day. He cursed the man sleeping in his sitting room. This was just _not_ his day.


	3. Chapter III

Chapter III

Wherein we step onto the path.

A sharp whistle met Albus Dumbledore as soon as he came back to his rooms after a week away from Hogwarts. At first he could not remember what the little trinket meant, why it would have been whistling. So, he stared at it for half an hour, just watching, waiting for it to voice its concerns. Something tugged at the back of his mind, telling him, warning him...

It was a simple knick-knack, one made of ornate, shiny obsidian with emeralds for the eyes. What the creature was, even Albus Dumbledore was unsure of; he had seen the object in a store and just had to have it. Minerva McGonagall had teased him, of course, calling him a raven for liking pretty, shiny things, but he could not help that the black rock was so shiny and the deep green emeralds reminded him of Lily-

Ah.

So the little trinket was to warn him that Little Harry Potter was in danger or the wards surrounding his muggle relatives' house had been destroyed.

Furrowing his brow, Albus Dumbledore quickly left the large building, cursing himself for having his office so far from the exit. In his old age he could not walk as fast as he had once been able to do. His bones creaked in protest as he tried to hurry his limbs to carry him quicker to the gate so he could get to Little Harry Potter's residence. That thought brought up another- Harry was old enough to come to Hogwarts, now. Albus wondered what could have happened this close to his coming to Hogwarts; his whereabouts were unknown to all but himself, Hagrid, Minerva, and Severus and there had been no mention of him in any of the Wizarding papers.

This whole situation was baffling.

Albus Dumbledore quickly made his way to the Dursley's home. He noticed that the wards were no longer there, a fact which baffled Albus greatly. Three quick raps of his knuckles later he was met with the woman of the house. He smiled warmly at her, introduced himself, and asked if he could come in, please.

Petunia frowned, obviously displeased. "Professor Dumbledore," was all she said in greeting. It took her a long moment, but she nodded her head once and opened the door wider for the strange wizard to come in. Albus hurried in and glanced about the quaint home, not missing the lock on the cupboard under the stairs.

"Where is little Harry?"

"Left."

He turned to her, his blue eyes icy. "What do you mean, 'left'?"

Her frown deepened. "Just that. Some man came earlier today and whisked him away."

Albus Dumbledore was understandably confused. "Did you fight to keep the child?"

"What do you think?" Petunia snapped, crossing her thin arms across her chest. "I never wanted that child in the first place, you know that. Plus, I wasn't about to put up a fuss with that man bleeding everywhere and threatening us and speaking of delusions-"

"What do you mean, 'delusions'?"

Petunia rolled her eyes. "He told the boy to get on the bus, but when I looked out there, there was no bus."

Ah, so the Knight Bus. That should make things easier, Albus decided. "When did this occur?" he asked thoughtfully stroking the top of his long beard. "And what did this man look like?"

Petunia clammed up at the question. She closed off all emotions and turned slightly away from the headmaster so she could not directly look at the unnerving man. "I don't see why it should be of any concern. The boy's gone, and I say good riddance!" In truth, she was very afraid. The eyes she had seen when the stranger took her nephew were just like her sister's and her nephew's- green and passionate. Petunia knew he would have fought tooth and nail for her nephew despite his injuries. She knew it was better to give the stranger the boy without a fight. Also, the stranger looked as if he could have been her brother, with his hair color the same as hers and his eye color the same as Lily's. The face even looked like Lily's.

Yes, she was frightened and wanted to know what was going on. Yet she knew she would never know. She had no way to communicate with the stranger- she did not even know his name! So, Petunia Dursley resigned herself to never knowing what became of her nephew and the stranger that looked as if he could be her brother.

"Please leave," she whispered, nearly begging. "I want nothing to do with _your_ world."

Albus Dumbledore did as she asked, knowing that, no matter how hard he pried, he would not be able to get anything more out of the distraught Dursley. And besides, he was determined to find the Boy-Who-Lived as soon as possible. In his haste, however, he missed the shudder of grief Petunia Dursley gave for the loss of her nephew and the last link to her sister.

* * *

Felix sat up quickly, startling Severus Snape (who was _not_ keeping vigil over the young man, thank you very much; he was just making sure Felix wouldn't die because he did not want to carry on the younger man's mission if he did). The blond struggled with the blankets in his (weak) attempt to get up. Severus Snape made no move to help Felix, instead just raising an eyebrow in amusement. Felix fell to the floor in a pile of blankets and limbs. He sat there for several seconds in a dazed silence with Snape just watching him.

"Ouch," he finally muttered unenthusiastically.

"You'll be fine," spoke the dour owner of the house. "Now, was there a reason for you inane movements, or am I to assume you were having a fit and should take you to the nice little house in the next town?"

Felix stared, open mouthed, at Snape. "Did you..." He didn't even know what to say. "Did you just make a joke? You never joke!" But then again, if he thought about it, Snape tended to joke a lot; Felix had just been too angry at the man to realize it.

Snape rolled his eyes. "Just answer the question."

"What question?"

With an impatient sigh Snape sat Felix back on the couch to check his head once again. "Why were you flailing around?" he said in the simplest terms he could think of for the injured (and perhaps stupid, thought Snape) man.

His eyes glazed over at the question. It took Felix a moment to remember, a fact that Snape found worrisome (even if he would not say so aloud). "I need to know today's date. It is very important, but not for the..." His eyes danced over to the kitchen door before jumping back to look wildly back at Snape. "You know."

"July fifteenth, nineteen-ninety-one," answered Snape evenly. He pulled back as Felix jumped up from the couch. "Is there a problem?"

"Have you given Harry anything to eat?" Felix asked as he headed for the kitchen.

Snape hurried after him- not to make sure Felix did not hurt himself, but to make sure he did not knock over anything of value (how little there was) or destroy anything of his. "Yes, I did. That is typically what you are supposed to offer guests."

Felix cursed as he entered the kitchen. Harry was bent over in his chair panting. A puddle of vomit was on the floor in front of him. Felix rushed forward and rubbed soothing circles on the boy's back. He whispered comforting words in the boy's ear, and Snape could have sworn the whispers were promises not to beat him or stuff him into a cupboard. Snape wondered about Felix's words, but said nothing. For now, anyway. He would ask Felix later, once the young Potter was asleep. Instead, Snape waved his wand to banish the mess. Neither form of Harry Potter noticed.

Yes, Severus Snape knew exactly who Felix Siclife really was. Felix obviously knew him- quite well, apparently- yet anyone who went to Hogwarts would know the dour Potions Professor. But why else would Felix had gone to fetch little Harry Potter, if he were not Harry Potter himself? Besides that point, Felix had the exact same shade of green eyes as the small boy- and his childhood friend. Once Harry grew up, Snape was sure his voice would be exactly like Felix's. Another thing that told Snape that Felix was really an older Harry was the shapes of his face. Everything was the same. Others might say they were not the same person, but Severus Snape knew better. Ignoring the hair, the two were exactly the same. And hair could easily be changed; everything else could not, though he wondered how he had gotten rid of the scar; perhaps magic advances had increased in that area in the near future, Snape thought, or Felix could have gone the muggle way. Snape thought it was funny how a person's hair could make them so different from another. He dismissed thoughts of his own long, greasy black locks to turn his attention back to the two Harry Potters.

"You should have known not to eat so quickly," Felix was saying gently to the young boy. Snape would continue calling the older Harry Felix so as not to get the two confused.

Harry hung his head. "I know, but I was so hungry!" He suddenly clutched at his stomach in pain. "Oh... It hurts."

Felix hung his head as well and closed his eyes in remorse. "I know, Harry. Let's get you some water, yeah? Tell me what else you need to do."

Snape stood back to watch the two as Harry directed Felix around the kitchen. Felix hardly had to ask where an item could be located. Snape wondered if Felix had come to his house frequently or had been close to the Snape in his timeline- both ludicrous thoughts, but not impossible- if his familiarity with Snape's kitchen indicated anything. So, he asked, causing both green-eyed males to pause and look over at him.

"Uh..." Felix shrugged with a shaky, nervous smile. "I've never been in your house before."

"Then how do you know where everything is?"

Felix looked around the room for inspiration. "Magic?" He cringed at the look Snape gave him. It made him feel twelve again. "Alright! I grew up working in the kitchen, and... Kitchens are generally the same. You are also a little predictable, if your potions cabinet at Hogwarts is anything to go by."

He did not appreciate being called predictable. Predictability on his part could get him killed. Snape started to say something scathing, but a soft smile from Felix cut him off. He glared, but kept silent. Felix grinned and went back to taking care of his ten-year-old self, skillfully ignoring the angry Potions Master. The grin told Snape how amusing the time traveler found this situation. Snape sat at his kitchen table to better watch the two.

"Now drink this," Felix ordered, setting a glass of water in front of Harry. He turned his gaze to Snape and murmured, "If only you'd known... I wonder how different things would have been."

Snape said naught, choosing instead to stay silent. Truthfully, he had no idea what to say to that. He had no idea what this old, worn down Harry Potter was like; this was his first meeting with the younger man. Snape had not taught this man before, and he did not know what to expect. How was Snape supposed to respond to the unasked question? He did not know how his future- Felix's past Snape- really felt about the now-blond man.

This was making Severus Snape's head hurt.

"May I ask a question?"

Felix nodded at the young boy. "Of course. I promise to answer the best I can."

Harry hesitated, hunching in on himself. Seeing this, Felix sat down beside the nervous child and wondered if he had _really_ been that small at (nearly) eleven. And then he realized that, _of course_, he'd always been that small, and was _still_ pretty small. Felix finally admitted to himself that he'd always be slighter than his peers no matter what he did to reverse the problem. "Let me tell you this, Harry: You can come to me for anything, no matter what time of the day or night."

"But _why?_" Harry asked, frowning in confusion. "I don't even know you! Don't get me wrong. I'm glad you took me away from the Dursleys' and all, but..."

"How can you trust me?"

"Exactly," Harry said shyly, speaking to the table.

Felix gently took the smaller hands in his. Snape felt as if he was intruding on something important, but damn it, this was his house! He had the right to be here and listen in. So, he watched the scene silently from his little corner of the kitchen. Felix spoke in soft tones to the boy, but the house was so silent that the gentle words carried over to Snape across the room.

Felix sighed and hung his head. "Harry... I would love to tell you, I really would, but I can't until you learn Occlumency. The information of who I am and where I come from in the wrong hands could be very, very bad. It would mean the end of the world. Do you understand?" He waited for Harry to nod forlornly before continuing. "I will tell you this: I am here to save you and protect you. My goal is to keep you safe and happy. Just know that and in time I shall tell you the whole story. For now, though... Just call me Felix Siclife, and you know me better than you think you do."

Several hours later Snape made to leave the house to go run some 'errands'. "I'll be on my way, then," he said as he walked toward the bedroom door. "Don't do anything foolish, like leave the house. Do not answer the door or go near the fireplace in the front room."

"We know. Don't forget-"

Snape held up the hand holding a stack of papers. "That's my first errand. Then I'll go get Pettigrew and free Black. Hopefully you'll be out of my house by tonight." Snape was getting annoyed with the two Potters in his house, and he could believe that Felix was James Potter's son. He was just so... annoying and cheeky. Enough said.

After the little fiasco in the kitchen and Harry had finally kept down some sustenance, Snape had ordered Felix to rest in the only spare bedroom in the house. Harry was to watch him sleep to make sure nothing too bad happened to the injured blond. If something were to happen, all Harry would have to do was try to enter the room across the hall. That would trip the ward placed on the room which would alert Snape to come back to the house immediately. Snape had (triple) checked to make sure that he was not expecting any company at all, and told the two there should not be any disturbances.

Severus Snape bid the two versions of Harry Potter adieu and left Spinner's End for the Ministry of Magic. His first task was to slip Felix Siclife's (fake) papers in with the legitimate paperwork over all the wizards currently residing in Great Britain. Snape presumed the task to be an easy one- probably the easiest of his list today- and he was correct. He was not even stopped going in or coming back out.

Snape was rather impressed with himself. He had been out of practice with sneaking for nearly ten years (his only experience during those years amounted to catching students out of bed, but they made the hunt way too easy) and he had not even had odd looks sent his way.

Well, that just showed just how incompetent the Ministry of Magic was, didn't it?

Now for the hard part... To get the rat and convince the Ministry they had the wrong man, and that the one they thought to be dead was the real culprit and very much alive.

No, this was just _not_ his day. He wondered why on _earth_ he had agreed to do this for the time traveler, but Snape had to admit it was the eyes that did him in. The eyes were just like Lily's, and Felix Siclife had looked just like his dead ex-best friend when she pleaded for Snape to do her a favor, please and thank you and you're the best ever, Sev!

Snape shook his head as he approached The Burrow. He tapped on the door three brisk times and stepped back respectfully for when Molly Weasley opened the door. Soon enough she did and she was quite taken aback at who stood on her doorstep.

The Potions Professor said as she opened her mouth to speak, "I need to take a look at your rat."

* * *

Watching someone sleep, Harry decided, was incredibly boring. All Felix did was... lay there! Sometimes the man snorted or twitched, but otherwise he did _absolutely nothing_. The man who had just left- Professor Snape, was it?- had said that the drink- potion- he had given Felix would knock him out cold for several hours. There wasn't even a book Harry could understand (everything was about advanced magic) to entertain himself with.

And just how was he supposed to get used to being a wizard, anyway? All his life he had been told he was nothing, a freak, and that magic did not exist. This was certainly a lot of information to absorb.

Well, at least Harry could entertain himself with his thoughts. First he wondered exactly who this Sirius Black person was. Professor Snape had kind of explained the situation to him, but Harry just couldn't understand. Sirius Black, falsely accused of murder, was his godfather, and one of his parents' friends. Did that make him family, then?

No, it would not do well to dwell on the impossible, Harry reminded himself bitterly.

So he turned his thoughts over to where he would live now. Felix had just... whisked him away from the Dursleys'. Was he to live with the stranger, or this Sirius Black person, or Professor Snape, or- No, surely they would not send him to an orphanage.

Right?

And... Harry brightened and sat up straighter as a thought hit him; would he get an actual bedroom? Would he get real meals, and clothes, and toys and books and a bed andandand-!

He cut off the thought and slumped back down in the chair. It would do no good to get his hopes up. Hadn't he done that once or twelve times before and they had been bashed and torn apart every single time? Why would now be any different? Unless this stranger was... nicer than his relatives. He _had_ promised he wouldn't hit him or lock him in a cupboard for what happened in the kitchen earlier, and he had said that Harry could go to himi whenever he needed to talk.

_That_ brought on another question: How did Felix know? He'd never seen the man before in his life! And on another note, what were those papers for?

Now he was just bursting with questions, and he had no one to ask. _And_ he had no real entertainment anymore. Harry was just settling down to sit there, bored out of his skull (this was even more boring than when he had been locked in his cupboard at the Dursleys'), when there was a funny sound downstairs. It sort of sounded like a fire flaring up...

His eyes widened when he heard footsteps on the floor below him. Professor Snape had said he wouldn't be home until nearly dinner time, and it had only been a few hours since he'd left. That meant that, even though Professor Snape had said there wouldn't be, a visitor had come.

"Severus?" the intruder downstairs called out.

Harry panicked. What was he supposed to do? The footsteps were coming up the stairs! Harry couldn't run across the hall and open the door- he'd surely be seen!

Quickly, Harry pulled Felix from the bed (he was surprisingly light, but Harry didn't have time to think about that) and dragged him to the wardrobe on the other side of the room. The footsteps drew nearer, sending his heart pounding painfully in his chest. It felt as if it was trying to escape. He could hear his heart pounding and he hoped and prayed the intruder would not hear it as well. Finally, he made his way into the wardrobe. He shoved the unconscious man in first, following shortly after. The door closed softly behind them, and Harry wished with all his power that they would not be found, and that he'd had time to at least make the bed so the room would have looked just as it was before they'd come, and that the intruder would _please_ not find them.

What Harry didn't know was that the room was suddenly dustier and the bed was made just before the door opened.

"Severus?" the stranger whispered. Now that it was closer, it sounded like an old man. Harry wondered what an old man would be doing there...

The footsteps neared the wardrobe. Harry renewed his silent pleas with vigor. He would have pleaded aloud, but then he knew he'd be found. That, of course, would make hiding a moot point. Of course, he was now frightened out of his mind, but he knew how to push his fear away and focus on the survival. It was not a rusty skill, really.

"Albus?" he heard Professor Snape say from the doorway. He breathed a sigh of relief, clapping a hand over his mouth immediately after. _Pleasedon'tnoticepleasedon'tnotice_- "What are you doing?"

'Albus' moved away from the wardrobe. "Ah! There you are, Severus! Something grave has happened!" Harry spared a moment to feel fear building in his chest. This did not sound good _at all_. "Harry Potter has gone missing!"

Harry was still confused about why he was so important. Professor Snape had explained it to him, yes, but he had also given him a lot more information than that. How could he, Harry Potter, be so important? Especially at fifteen months old? Looking at the situation, Harry had decided that he hadn't really done anything- his mother had done all the work. There was another question to ask when this was all over.

"Missing?" asked Professor Snape, sounding amused. "Well, that certainly is a dilemma. What do you propose we do about our wayward celebrity?"

Harry could hear the frown in 'Albus's tone. "I really wish you would let your grudge with the boy's father go, Severus. He's not his father-"

"I know that," Professor Snape snapped. Harry cringed at his sharp words. "Where've you all looked?"

The voices dimmed as the two moved away, but Harry did not dare leave the wardrobe. It was safer to stay there than to leave to find out if the two older men were still there. Besides, Professor Snape would come get them once 'Albus' left, most likely. And then Harry and Felix would leave- to go where, exactly?- because the professor was getting irritated with their presence. Then Harry had to wonder why he became a teacher if he got annoyed by other people so easily.

"Potter?" Professor Snape said from the doorway to the spare bedroom. Harry didn't move, afraid of the harsh underlying tone from the teacher. He heard the man sigh, and softer, he said, "Harry, Dumbledore is gone, now. You can come out." He paused for a moment. "That is, if you're still here."

Harry opened the door to the wardrobe and tumbled out. He looked up at a confused Professor Snape. "You were hiding in the wardrobe the whole time?"

"Small spaces are safer," Harry replied automatically. He blushed, turning away from the scrutinizing look Professor Snape sent his way. He then noticed the neat bed. With wide eyes, he said, "But- I didn't make the bed! What- how-?" Harry was just so confused, so he looked up to the teacher for an answer. Surely being a teacher would mean he was able to explain this strange phenomenon.

"Accidental magic," was all Professor Snape offered as he moved around Harry to retrieve Felix from the wardrobe. "Sirius Black should be out around dinner time, if the Ministry isn't _trying_ to be incompetent. Hopefully my warning will garner their attention and they will not delay." Once Felix was settled back in the bed, he turned back to Harry. He raised an eyebrow at the nervous expression Harry harbored. "Yes?"

Harry fidgeted at the sudden attention. "So... So I'll go live with this... this Sirius Black fellow? As will Felix?"

"I might keep Felix for a few more days for observation, but otherwise yes." Professor Snape headed towards the door. "Come along, now. You might as well ask your questions while I work on a potion for our acquaintance."

Harry smiled and followed the man down to the potions lab. Professor Snape was being so nice to Harry. Plus, Harry liked having his questions answered instead of being ignored. The man before him was neither pitying nor too harsh with Harry, and he found that he liked it. He was straightforward and truthful, something Harry liked instead of the stalling and dodging his uncle usually did when he asked awkward questions. It was a welcome change.

And Harry thought that, maybe, he could come to trust this man.

* * *

Harry- Felix, Hermione had to remind herself- had left just a few hours before. Now, she and Draco sat in the kitchen of Number 12 Grimmauld Place in a silent camaraderie. Neither knew what to say and time was nearing midnight. They sat at the long, narrow table in the cold; no one had thought to light the fireplace; no one had really even expected they would have still been there. But there they were, lingering after the powerful magic they had performed that night.

Hermione hesitantly broke the silence with, "I cannot believe it."

Draco looked up from the table. "Believe what? That he went through with it or that we helped him? Or something completely out of the possible realm of imagination for a pure-blood?"

Hermione smiled at the joke. She reflected on how much Draco had changed these past few years for merely an instant before continuing. "A little of both," she said quietly, as if not to disturb the stillness of the house. "I mean..." She struggled for the words. Draco waited patiently. "One has to wonder why he chose to do this _now_ of all times. He was about to marry Ginny Weasley."

"I do not believe that was on his mind when he decided to do this."

Hermione agreed with a nod. "He was so excited about marrying her, though. That was all he talked about when he came over, you know. He had plans- hundreds of them! He was going to show her exactly how much he loved her."

"He loved the _idea_ of her," Draco corrected. He held up a slim, pale hand to prevent her from arguing until she heard him out. "He thought it would make everyone else happy if he married her. You are his friend, Granger- _Hermione_. Surely you saw multiple times how he strived to make everyone else happy before he concentrated on his own needs." At her disbelieving stare Draco sighed and rubbed his left temple. "You've got to be kidding me. His rival noticed this while his best friends didn't? Look, Hermione, Potter- he..." _was just like me_. Draco sighed in frustration and rubbed his face with his hand.

"Potter did not believe he deserved to be happy," he finally said after a long stretch of silence. "Harry believed it was his fault those people died. They were fighting what was essentially supposed to be his battle."

"That's preposterous!"

"But true." He sighed again. "I could argue circles with you and neither of us would get anywhere. We are both too set in our ways."

Hermione could not disagree with that. It was silent for several moments before Hermione said, "We should tell Blaise." At Draco's confused glance her way, she elaborated, "Zabini. He worked for Harry. We'll just tell everyone he was experimenting and something went wrong. It obliterated his body, I guess." She stood and glanced around at the kitchen. "I guess my first theory was wrong, then."

Draco looked up at her curiously. "What theory?"

Hermione beckoned for him to follow her as she exited the kitchen. "Since Harry went back twelve years, I assumed this timeline would disappear or a new one would break off at the point Harry landed in the past. We aren't disappearing, so I'll have to assume the time stream broke when he landed."

"That, or he died."

"Exactly." Hermione sighed sadly as they left Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. "There's nothing we can do about it."

Draco stopped her when they reached the street. The house behind them shrunk until it disappeared all together. No one would ever go back to the house; it would be left to rot for years to come. It was a depressing thought, knowing that no one else knew of the abandoned house or at least cared enough to keep it clean. It would never be bought, and it could not be passed on because there were no more Black heirs- except for Draco Malfoy, but he had no need or want for the house. He had turned his back on the Dark Arts, and going back to that house would just encourage him to go back to his previous ways.

So the house was now truly abandoned, never to see another soul again.

"It was... nice working with you," Draco muttered, holding out a hand.

Hermione shook her head. "I hope you are not saying goodbye. I'd like to work with you more in the future. If you wouldn't mind, that is."

Draco nodded, a slight smile only shining in his eyes. "I'd like that very much."


	4. Chapter IV

Chapter IV

In which the hero is forgiven.

It was nearly a week later when Felix finally awoke. Sirius had not been able to take Harry until three days after he was declared innocent. The ministry, to 'apologize', had paid for a trip to St. Mungo's to make sure his sanity had not taken a prolonged vacation while the Minister of Magic tried to find a way to explain and or cover up his mistakes. Three days after being released from prison, however, found one Mister Sirius Black ready to find his beloved godson with a remarkable clean bill of health, besides his malnourished figure. Fudge, even while suspicious of this fact because, _really_, how could _anyone_ be that healthy after almost ten years in Azkaban, reluctantly let him go.

A surprise awaited the innocent man as soon as he was given the news he could leave: Severus Snape was waiting for him, leaning against the wall adjacent to the door Sirius had just come from. Sirius, of course, was suspicious and instantly on guard. Snape only said to follow him if Sirius wanted to reunite with his godson and that the guardianship papers had already been taken care of.

In Snape's home, Sirius found his too skinny, too small, quite sickly-looking godson. Well, Sirius really had no room to say- he was just as too skinny and just as sickly-looking from being locked up for a decade. But back to the topic at hand; Harry looked, to put in kind words, not well off. He was about to blame Snape, but his dry words cut him off before he could even start.

"Trust me; he looks better now than a week ago."

And that nearly broke Sirius Black's heart.

However, dear reader, this story is not about the broken heart of one Sirius Black. No, this story is not even about Harry Potter, the boy recently rescued from that horrible muggle home. Yes, 'Felix' would want to know all about that teary reunion in which Harry ran into his godfather's arms without hesitation, even if he was a little frightened because he did not know the man, but it was not important at the moment.

What Felix wouldn't give to know the man for himself.

No, dear reader, this story is not about Harry at all.

Felix found himself awake four days after Harry had left. The house was quiet, unassuming of the conversation yet to come. Felix struggled to sit up and winced when he found he had a pressing problem.

He _really_ needed to use the bathroom. Once that was taken care of he went in search of his temporary host. And for some food. When he was younger four days without a meal wasn't really that big of a deal, but after several years of eating regularly made him wonder how he could have ever survived all those years.

He found Severus Snape in front of the stove in the kitchen. A pot was simmering before him, letting delicious aromas spread through the room.

"Sit, Mister Siclife," said the owner of Spinner's End without even looking at his houseguest. "Lunch will be ready shortly." Felix sat at the table, watching him with weary eyes. Even though he had slept for a week straight, he was still exhausted. "It is nice of you to join the living once again."

Felix found his head to be mindlessly bobbing ridiculously at the other man's words. He forced himself to stop and speak since the other man had his back to him. "Yeah... I'm not sure if it's nice to _be_ back, though. I'm still tired." He let his gaze wonder around the room belatedly. "Hey... Where's Harry? How long was I out?"

"It's not surprising you are still fatigued," Snape said, ladling the soup into two bowls. "That was quite a blow to the head, and you lost a lot of blood. Your new heart problem does not make matters any better." His words were uncharacteristically soft as he spoke to the time traveler. "And Harry is with his godfather, now. He left four days ago."

"Oh." Felix watched Snape place the bowl, a spoon, and a glass of water in front of him. "Thanks." He continued to stare at it, as if unsure what to do with the meal in front of him.

"I did not poison it, if that is what you think."

Felix swiveled around to stare at Snape (who had sounded remarkably insulted, if Felix was not mistaken). However, that was not such a good idea. He nearly toppled over at the sudden, dizzying movement. Luckily, Snape caught him before he could fall. "I... What?" He blinked slowly several times, as if doing so would defog his brain.

Snape hummed- either in amusement or worry, Felix could not tell- and helped right the dizzy man. "Just eat, Mister Siclife."

"Don' hafta call me that," Felix muttered into his spoon. It did not hold any of the soup from his bowl.

Snape rolled his eyes. "Do I need to reteach you how to feed yourself, or are you capable of eating on your own?"

Felix stared incomprehensively at the Potion Master for several long moments before belatedly looking down at his lunch. "... Oh." With slow, groggy movements he managed to fill his spoon with the soup. However, his hand shook and he nearly dropped the utensil. Felix glanced up when the chair next to him scraped against the floor as Snape stood. He watched with his slightly glazed eyes as Severus Snape moved to one of the cupboards filled with a variety of potions.

"Here," said Snape, letting the phial drip out a few drops of the deep green potion onto the spoon. He helped guide the cooled bit of soup to Felix's mouth.

Once he swallowed, Felix was instantly aware. He swayed in his seat at the sudden clarity of his mind. "Whoa," he said, putting a hand to his head to try to stop the vertigo.

"Are you more aware, now?"

"Yeah. Thanks."

Snape went back to his own lunch and Felix quickly followed suit. The two ate in silence, neither really knowing what to say to the other. Once the last of their lunch had been eaten and the dishes had been magically moved to the sink to wash themselves, the two journeyed to the sitting room for a modicum of comfort. Felix slouched tiredly on the couch that had been saturated with his blood only a week ago, and Snape sat back straight in the dark colored armchair near the empty fireplace.

"Thanks," started Felix when the other made no move to speak first. "You know, for helping."

"You trusted me," was Snape's reply.

Felix hummed his response, still deciding on what to say to his old enemy next. The silence stretched on for several minutes while each man contemplated on what needed to be said betwixt the two next.

"You know," said Felix when an idea hit him, yet trailing off when he did not know how to continue.

Today, my beloved reader, this story is about forgiveness.

"I forgive you," Felix finally muttered. "And so does Lily."

Snape stared long and hard at him, tensing at the words. "And why would you do such a thing?" he asked after a long, tense silence.

Felix shrugged halfheartedly. "I understand why you became a Death Eater in the first place, and I know why you treated me so horribly when I came to Hogwarts. Well, _my_ Snape, I mean. Not you. You haven't done anything, yet." He stared at the other man with bright green, scrutinizing green eyes. "And I forgive you. I forgave you a long time ago, and I know my mother would do the same if she had the chance. And I wanted to thank you for everything you've done for me."

"I have done nothing."

"Well..." Felix glanced at the cold, empty fireplace beside the older man. Snape had leaned forward in what seemed like interest, his hands clasped before his knees and his elbows resting on said knees. "I never got to thank you in the future."

Snape nodded once, but said nothing for a long moment. Finally, he drew in a breath and said, "How could you possibly understand my choices?"

"You saw Harry," was the answer. "How small, how malnourished he was. How he got sick from eating, and how he reacted. I also know my father was not the nicest teenager, and he didn't even try to be a decent person towards you. He reminds me of my cousin, and how he treated me." Felix paused, wondering what to say next. "If I could, I would make him apologize to you. There is nothing I hate more than a bully."

The man still did not look convinced.

Frustrated, Felix sighed and rubbed his face, as if that would relieve his frustration. However, it did not. He looked back up at Snape before asking, "What will it take for me to convince you?"

He did not answer right away. Instead, he looked down at his potion-stained hands resting in front of his knees, his pointy elbows on his knees placing them there. The long, stained, thin fingers unfurled and clenched several times in front of him during his scrutiny. What _would_ it take for the younger man to convince him? He did not trust easily; Felix Siclife had trusted him- for things he had not done, except for in a future that no longer existed- without pause, so Severus Snape had helped him. He knew the time traveler was telling the truth; his face was too open to be otherwise. Of course, Felix was hiding _something_, but he would not pry- at least, not at the moment. He, himself was a private man, and would not want someone prying into his private matters. Besides, every man was entitled to his secrets, and he could respect that.

His fingers continued to clench and unfurl, clench and unfurl, clench and unfurl in front of him as he thought. How could he be convinced? What would it take?

Severus Snape looked up at the younger man, stilling his hands. Felix's face was open, ready to give whatever he had to convince him. Just that small, nearly insignificant little detail made him pause. Why would Felix try so hard to convince him, if it was not true? Unless he was expecting Snape to believe him sincere enough not to question him further, not to test him further.

Was Felix Siclife being _too_ sincere? That was the question of the moment.

The fireplace made nary a sound, being as empty as it was. Empty as Snape's own heart, just as cold and barren, and just as ruthless in its lack of comfort.

Felix Siclife made no move, just studying him as he thought.

Snape snorted at a thought. _Felix Siclife; the letters rearranged for a luck potion. He was sick of his life, the heartache, and thus his name._

"Interesting," he mumbled aloud.

And still Felix made not a sound.

Standing, he made his decision. "I believe you," he said to the empty, cold fireplace, his back to his temporary houseguest. He thought that, perhaps, he imagined the sharp intake of disbelief behind him_. So he was being sincere,_ thought the older man when he decided he had, indeed, heard a sharp intake of breath behind him from the young time traveler.

"You said 'yet'," he continued, running a light, thin finger over his dusty mantle. He'd clean it later, perhaps, if he remembered to do so. He would not do it now, seeing as they were in the middle of quite an important conversation. Besides, he was too concerned of what the time traveler had to say to even bother with the mundane task.

"I did?" asked the guest behind him. "I suppose so."

He still had his back to the other man. "Do you believe that I shall repeat my future self's actions?"

"Not on purpose," replied the blond quickly.

He could feel the Lily-green eyes boring into his back. Those wonderful, bright, inquisitive eyes, full of hope and wonder.

And sadness, he added with an imperceptive nod. He traced nonsensical patterns in the thick grey dust before him as he thought. The sadness of witnessing more than a fair share of death and despair, of war and hate, of broken hearts and power-hungry megalomaniacs, of loneliness and the burden of the world on his shoulders. The guilt weighed heavy on the young man's shoulders, Snape noted, and it reflected in his tired, world-weary green eyes, so much like his dead best friend's, yet not similar in the least at the same time. His eyes somewhat reflected his chosen name, or perchance vice versa. Did the younger man know this? Is that why he chose the name?

"Thank you," said the used-to-be-once-had-been-but-no-longer-a hero. There was a tangible heaviness in his voice, Snape noticed, a tired one of having kept a secret for so long. "I went to your grave, you know. To apologize. To seek forgiveness. To thank you. But it wasn't the same."

"I don't suppose it was," Snape said to the dusty mantle over the empty, cold fireplace. He stopped his meaningless designs on the dusty shelf and rubbed his thumb and forefinger together to rid of the dust that had collected there. He watched the dust trickle through the air and land in a pile atop one of the lines he had made before continuing. "I had made a promise," he added hesitantly after a long, but not quite uncomfortable, silence, "to your mother. When she died, I had promised her that I would protect you."

Behind him he heard the sound of shifting cloth. He wondered if the younger man had nodded, or shifted to get more comfortable, but he did not turn to confirm either idea. "I know," whispered Felix, as if he was afraid that speaking any louder would break their current conversation, shattering it into a million tiny, irreparable pieces. "I see that, now, after you had died. I wanted to also apologize to how I treated you while I was in school." He fell silent, but Snape had a feeling he was only pausing for breath, or courage. "I blamed you for many things, when you had only been trying to help me. Every time. And yet... You still protected me, no matter what I had done to you."

He was not sure how to respond to that. So, he chose: "I believe your Severus Snape felt guilt for killing his best friend, and felt entitled to gain forgiveness by protecting her son, and felt he had to pay your father back for the night he saved my- his- our- life." He only turned slightly to see Felix still sitting on the couch he had saturated with his life force the week before, staring down at his twining fingers in his lap, although he had hunched forward to rest his elbows on his knees and let his hands dangle before him.

"I am not sure if I have the right to forgive you."

Felix snapped his head up at that and caught his gaze. Snape turned fully around with a piercing black gaze. "What-"

"I never endured your troubling self, so I do not know how your Severus Snape would have felt," he explained before Felix could ask. "However..." He cast a glimpse at the grandfather clock in the corner of the room. It read a quarter past two.

"I have a feeling," he said, looking back at the green-eyed man. Those green eyes that held so much sadness and hope and fear and determination and _feeling and sincerity_ bore into his own never-ending black pools for eyes. He noticed the previously injured temple was healing quite nicely and he talked to that for what he had to say next because he could not bring himself to look into those deep, vibrant, unnervingly-full-of-life-when-the-man-had-only-endured-death-so-many-times-and-how-could-he-still-_function_ green eyes, "that he would have forgiven you, or perhaps had a feeling you would not have a need to be apologetic in the first place."

Felix smiled warmly at the dour man, and he felt the corners of his lips twitch up in response and the edges around his eyes soften.

Yes, all was forgiven.

Or, well, most was forgiven.

Sirius Black and Severus Snape were having a staring contest. Both were glaring with all their energy and neither were about to back down. Felix and Harry could feel the energy crackling through the air as they sat in Sirius Black's new home he had purchased with the money the Ministry had given him in compensation for unjustly throwing him in the Horror That Is Azkaban. It was a bright, lovely home in the country, next to a few other wizarding families- the Weasleys and the Lovegoods, actually, which Felix approved of.

My dear reader, I digress, and for that I deeply apologize. You see, earlier this day I told you that this story is not about the broken heart of one Sirius Black, nor is this story even about Harry Potter, the boy recently rescued from that horrible muggle home. 'So why would the author bring the heartbroken Sirius Black and the ten-year-old boy into the picture?' you might be asking. 'I thought this story was about forgiveness today?'

And that, my dear reader, is the truth.

"If you would just say those two little words," Felix said with a roll of his eyes, "your pain would be over very quickly and then you may go back to ignoring each other's existence."

"_Why_ must we do this?" whined Sirius, causing his little godson to chuckle behind his hand.

Felix laughed heartily, mostly at the man's expense, to which Sirius pouted at, making his godson giggle and Felix throw his head back to laugh harder. He felt much better after walking around for an hour or two, though his temporary host had taken his wand away from him so he could not strain himself. "Because today is the day of forgiveness," he teased once he had calmed from his laughing fit. He shot a grin at an immeasurably displeased Snape. "It's been recently established."

With a bright smile, Felix patted the confused Potter's head lightly and sent a wink his way. While the two men went back to glaring (very sharp daggers, by the look of things) at each other, Felix whispered into Harry's ear, "I'm just trying to get rid of all the hate. They've been enemies, but now they need to work together to protect you."

"I still don't understand why I need to be protected," Harry pouted (quite adorably, in Felix's opinion; had he really been that adorable when he was younger?).

"Because you're precious," was his answer as Felix wrapped his arm around Harry to continue watching the glaring match before them.

Harry, even though only being in Sirius's care for a few days, was already looking healthier. He had a slight glow to his cheeks and a bright smile in his green eyes. His eyes shined with happiness and he no longer curled in on himself, waiting for a harsh, punishing hand. Earlier, Felix had been (with much enthusiasm from the young boy) shown Harry's room, which was spacious and full of things a ten-year-old boy would like. There were books on Quidditch and pictures of his parents on the bookshelf in the back corner, a bed in the opposite corner, and a tidy desk ready and begging to be used in the last corner. A smart dresser stood low beside his bed that could double as a bedside table with a lamp near the edge for Harry to use at night when he wanted to and an omnium-gatherum of magical knick-knacks littering the rest of the dresser's top.

The rest of the house was just as bright and open. It was just perfect for the two occupants now living there.

Snape sighed in front of him, and Felix was pulled back to the current (and highly amusing- to him and Harry, anyway) situation.

_Be the bigger man_, he had told Snape before they had left for the new home where Snape's enemy and dead enemy's son resided.

"I..." started Snape, clenching his eyes shut tight as if that would make the situation better, "apologize for my part in the feud in our teenage years."

Sirius grumbled and crossed his arms over his chest. He made a face, as if the words physically pained him, and said, "I forgive you. And I, too, apologize for what I did to you while in school."

"I..." Snape seemed just as pained. "I forgive you."

"See, now was that so hard?" chirped Felix, standing with Harry in tow. He headed for the kitchen. "Let us feast!"

Dinner was tense, of course, with Sirius and Snape sitting and eating dinner together, but Harry and Felix tried their hardest to keep the tension at bay with their chatter. Just talking to the boy Felix noticed that just a few days in Sirius's care had livened and opened up the reserved boy he knew he had been once upon a time.

When they got back (after Felix promised to visit sometime soon), Felix stopped his host with a gentle hand. "You know, sometimes the hero does what is right, because others view it as right. Other times, they do it because they know in their heart, their _soul_, it is the right thing to do." He paused, made sure the older man was looking at him, and said, "I am proud of you. You had no reason to forgive me, and you didn't have to forgive Sirius for all his previous transgressions."

With a soft squeeze to his arm, Felix bid the man good night and left for his temporary room.

Severus Snape would never admit it aloud, but his heart warmed just a little more at his guest's words.

* * *

**A/N: I am terribly sorry for my absense. College sucks all the imagination from you (if you're taking mostly math and science classes, anyway- very difficult ones at that), I swear. However, this semester I'm taking three English classes and a History class of Europe. Lots of reading, yes, but more chances for inspiration! Short chapter (at least 1,000 words shorter than the last, but I couldn't think of anything else to add to this chapter. **

**Until next time!**


	5. Chapter V

Chapter V

In which darkness settles in familiar places.

Felix lifted the locket from its place in the cursed cabinet at the violent residence that had so thoroughly dumped him roughly on the pavement outside on the walk just a month ago. Severus Snape stood just to his left, watching him as he stared at the locket that had caused Felix so much trouble in the past- or rather, future. Well, whichever; either view would work, but both made it equally confusing to think about. The locket teased him with the horrible memories Felix had of the time they had found the locket so long ago- so far into the future- and were trying to find a way to destroy it.

Earlier that day the two had gone to Sirius' place to ask for permission to enter the Black household at Grimmauld Place. "Do you solemnly swear to keep this a secret" was all he needed for a reason. All else Felix told him was that he wished to destroy a dark object he knew was in the home, but Sirius could not reveal that they knew about the dark object- or that even he knew about the mission.

With a flippant wave of his hand, Sirius had told him they were welcome to destroy anything in that house they deemed fit. If they wanted, they could burn the house down while they were at it, he had offered. Felix had laughed as Snape rolled his eyes, and the time traveler ruffled Harry's dark, messy hair before leaving with a sincere proclamation of gratitude.

So, several hours later, there they were. Just... staring at the locket.

"Well?" said Severus Snape with a sneer. He was growing quite impatient. They had been staring at the locket for the _past five minutes_ after it had taken them nearly _three hours_ (_**Three**_! That was just ridiculous!) to find it. "Are we just going to stare at it all day?"

"It's just so... easy," Felix replied, still transfixed with Salazar's locket. He fingered the serpent designs with a light, soft, reverent touch. "This used to be Salazar Slytherin's, did you know that? Then Riddle had to go and put his ugly, decrepit soul in it." Felix tore his eyes away to shoot Snape a quick glance. "Last time, we carried this for months before Ron destroyed it with Gryffindor's sword. We almost lost him because of it. It affected him the most. It was-"

He paused, cocking his head to one side as if listening carefully to something only he could hear. Snape heard nothing, but kept a wary eye on the younger man in case he decided to do something rash- _again_. Snape had had to stop the other man from jumping from the bed at the first mention of the dangerous items, and he did not wish to have another occurrence of that heart-stopping- literally- episode.

_Gryffindors_, Snape thought bitterly, with just a slight hint of fondness for his long-deceased best friend.

Suddenly, yet carefully, Felix placed the locket in the magical bag that hung at his belt. He refused to make the same mistake they had last time, even though the locket called for him to place it around his neck, to slide at the base of his throat, to rest next to his heart and poison him with its evil intentions.

It was a beautiful locket, certainly. Elegant in design, it was perfect for an heir of Slytherin. It had been heavy in his hand, and it shone dully just as Felix remembered. The artifact, being a magically made object, had not tarnished since its creation. The ornate, snake-like "S" spiraled enchantingly on the front, poised as if to strike an unsuspecting individual who did not know its secrets as well as Felix did. It was a mesmerizing piece, most certainly, and it had held Felix's attention, now that he was not on the run and could study it for as long as he liked.

Felix tore away from his thoughts and walked with determined purpose out of the house. "Now for the ring."

However, it took them several stressful days to actually find the Gaunt house, hidden in a copse on the hillside of Little Hangleton. They had been led on several wild goose chases and grew more irritated with the uncooperative village each day they lingered there. Anyway, the building they stood before could hardly even be called a house, in all honesty. It was deplorable, considering it had housed the last of the Slytherin line. To Felix and Snape, it looked as if the building was only being held up by magic. That was entirely possible because it currently housed one of Voldemort's Horcruxes, and surely he would have wanted the ring safe.

"Now how to get to it is the question," muttered Felix as he gazed upon the ramshackle house. "I suppose just walking in and taking it is out of the question."

"Did the Dark Lord put protections around his Horcruxes?" asked Snape, peering through the dark windows as he fingered his wand. Several spells were on the tip of his tongue in case of an emergency.

"Yes." Felix frowned. "No. The diadem did not. It was just in the Room of Requirement in Hogwarts. I guess he figured no one would notice it in the Room of Lost Things…" His voice trailed off as he stepped closer. "Perhaps he thought no one would enter his mother's home because there would be nothing in it to steal."

It was a possibility, but one Felix was not sure he wanted to risk. If the house- and thus the ring- _were_ protected… What were they protected by? If Dumbledore had told him the story of how he had gotten the ring, then Felix had long forgotten it by now.

So, there were only two choices.

"Either we hire a curse-breaker," said Felix contemplatively, "and wait a few more weeks, or we do this by ourselves now."

Snape carefully weighed the options. He was a patient man- he had to be, as both a Potions Master and teacher- and would not mind a few weeks' wait. On the other hand, he knew Felix was not the most patient of men, especially about his health. Snape had had to lie to him and had made Felix wait in bed a few days more than he had to so he would be strong enough for their most recent excursion. It was early August now, and Snape needed to be back at the castle by the last week of August. If they were to pull off the ruse of Felix being his patient, then they would want to arrive before that so they could also destroy the objects sooner. If Felix was injured further in this process, it would only help their story.

"I believe the best option would be now," said Snape, moving closer to the house. He explained his thoughts to the other man, who nodded in understanding. "Shall we venture forth?"

"Into the great unknown," Felix replied with a grimace. His chest- or rather, the area around his heart- twinged at the impending danger they were about to face. He debated on whether or not he should tell the other man, but Snape must have read his face because he asked if he was all right.

Felix furrowed his brow in thought. "If we ignore it, then it might help our story later."

"We shall keep an eye on it," was the short reply.

The two cautiously moved forward, wands grasped tightly in hand. Felix could not keep his unoccupied hand from moving to rub at his chest, hoping that would make the uncomfortable feeling go away. The air around the house made his skin crawl, and he desperately wanted to run away and take a scalding shower to get rid of the evil magic that surely stuck to his skin. However, he was a Gryffindor, and Gryffindors were known for heading head first into danger.

Cold air- unusual for this time of the year- hung heavily around the two as they approached the door of the shack. Felix moved forward- slowly, carefully aware of everything around him _(Constant vigilance!),_ of the sound of Snape's and his own slight breathing, of their footsteps, of his harshly beating heart thumping and begging to escape his chest. Felix only spared a glance for the snake nailed to the door.

A memory of his sixth year at Hogwarts- during one of his lessons with the headmaster- flared in his mind at the sight of the snake.

_Hissy, hissy, little snakey,_

_Slither on the floor_

_You be good to Morfin_

_Or he'll nail you to the door._

Felix shuddered at the ghostly Parseltongue memory of Morfin, but shook it off to push open the door. The door creaked and groaned on its hinges in protest to the overuse after such a long time of abandonment. With a powerful shield ready on the tip of his tongue, Felix stepped into the house to begin their search for the ring.

"Just be careful," Felix warned Snape once more. "The ring will whisper things to you, want you to put it on so it can suck out your life so it may come back to power. The stone will whisper about seeing Lily again. You _must_ ignore these temptations."

Snape nodded, biting his tongue from a sharp retort. Felix had only told him that at least a dozen times that day, but he said nothing, keeping his attention on finding the cursed object.

Felix walked as though he was in a trance- although still fully aware of his surroundings- as he remembered that lesson with Dumbledore so long ago. Something stirred on the edge of his conscience. However, it stayed back, teasing him, hissing at him, playing with him. Nothing jumped out at them, but he could not get over the unsettling feeling.

Something was _wrong_, but he could not tell what, exactly, that was.

The room they had entered was filthy- even filthier than from the memory of it when the last two Gaunt men had been arrested. Dust and debris covered the floor, cobwebs and spiders inhabited the corners, and snakeskins hid under the debris.

_Snakeskins_.

"Watch your feet!" Felix hissed out, lighting his wand with a _lumos_ and pointing it at the floor. Something slithered in his peripheral vision and moved just out of sight when he turned to look. Perhaps it was a rat tail, perhaps a snake tail.

"Are these just natural inhabitants, or His defense?"

"I've no idea," Felix replied honestly, keeping one eye on the floor and one eye on everything else. "I do not have the ability to speak with them anymore."

Their hisses, a muffled whisper where he almost understood their words, bothered him greatly. He could not see them, and could not understand them to know if they were for protection or just natural inhabitants that had taken over when the previous- human- occupants had left.

His heart twinged again as his adrenaline pumped through his veins. This waiting-for-something-to-pop-out-at-them thing filled him with dread. Waiting only made the whole situation worse, in his opinion. Felix was a man of action, a man who needed to focus his attention on his wand-work instead of dwelling on the "_what if_"s and letting his imagination run wild.

The ring was not in the first room- if it could be called that- nor the second. The third was just as empty on their initial scan. Felix heaved a sigh and rubbed his face, hoping that would stave off his irritation. They would have to do a more thorough sweep and get even dirtier than they were now from all the dust that stirred where they walked.

Only an hour into the search, Felix had to rest. He clutched at his chest, right above his heart, and tried to keep his breathing even as he leaned against a wall he hoped was sturdy enough to hold even his slight weight. He pushed Snape away when he tried to give him some sort of potion for it. "We want our story to be believable. I need to make myself injured enough to where you would have to take care of me at Hogwarts. Did you ask Dumbledore?"

"Yes," replied Snape, putting the potions back in his robes for later use. "He said you could stay in the hospital wing and Poppy could help."

Felix shook his head, immediately rejecting that idea. "He wants to keep me under watch, then, or put less pressure on you. Did he ask why I couldn't have been shipped to St. Mungo's?"

Snape ran a hand through his lank, greasy hair. He had had even less time to do such mundane tasks such as wash his hair since they began the hunt for the Horcrux. "Of course. I kept my answers vague and said that it would take my personal experience on dark curses to help you. If it is amenable to you, you shall be staying in my quarters so I may 'keep a better eye on you'."

"I'm starting to think he doesn't trust me," Felix snorted.

"You did not attend Hogwarts, of course," Snape replied in agreement. "He knows nothing of you, and thus does not know to which side you belong."

Felix studied the shack around them as he thought of an appropriate answer. "He does not trust you, then?"

"He does," Snape replied. "To an extent. He knows I would never turn against him because I am bound to him through my debts, but I still hold grudges against those from my childhood. That worries him, I suppose." He fell quiet, but Felix waited for him to speak up again since he still did not know what to say. "I… assume it will be difficult for you to go back to Hogwarts."

A blond eyebrow was the initial response. "Oh?" said Felix, wondering about the uncharacteristic sentiment from the usually harsh man. Usually Snape never showed much compassion for others. "Perhaps. I never thought about it, though. I only thought about my mission. What a silly thing to overlook," he said with a lopsided, ironic smile. "I… don't know. It's my home, sure, but… All the people who had been- I mean, were- It's not-"

Snape held up a hand to silence Felix. His eyes narrowed at the other side of the room to a corner where their lights did not reach. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"Exactly." Snape examined the room. "The house has gone too still."

As Felix listened more carefully, he found that Snape was correct. He could not hear the unnerving hissing anymore. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as he pushed from the wall.

"Something's here with us."

Snape's narrowed eyes examined the room with careful scrutiny. He urged the light from his wand to glow brighter to reach the corners. Where the light hadn't reached before stood a small creature about four feet tall which looked to be a mix between a goblin and a dwarf with gray hair and deep red eyes.

A noise to their left drew their attention to two more of these creatures shuffling from the shadows of the other rooms.

"Just a few Red Caps," said Snape. "Easy enough to handle."

Dust tickled his nose, but since they were not moving… Felix turned his attention to the dust falling from the ceiling. Deadpan, he pointed up and said, "Perhaps not so easy."

Above them in the rafters crouched and hung a dozen or more of the creatures grinning down at them with wickedly pointed teeth.

"Ah." Snape looked up as well. He blinked when one of the Red Caps above him held a large rock above its head. "Interesting." At Felix's incredulous look, he continued, "They seem to be quite a bit more intelligent than others. I suppose you should hurry and find the ring while I take care of these creatures. You know what to look for." His voice was frighteningly calm at his words.

Felix hardly hesitated to obey the task, dodging large rocks and piles of wood that rained down on them from above, courtesy of the catcalling dark creatures intent on their demise for their blood. Snape quickly incapacitated the first Red Cap they had spotted with a quick wave of his wand. Felix hastily put up a repelling charm to keep the rubble from hitting his head as he moved to the next room.

"There are a few more in here!" Felix shouted once he glanced at the ceiling. Snape called out a reply that said he understood, and to _just keep looking for the ring_. Felix dispatched one with a simple charm and nearly took the head off another with a harsh hex.

_This_ was what Felix needed. Conflict made it easier for him to search for the Horcrux. Desperation and determination dominated his senses, quickly leading him to possible places the ring could be. In his haste, a piece of wood he was not able to dodge in time hit his shoulder and he tripped over a loose floorboard. A pain in his left ankle told him he had at least sprained the ankle, but he ignored that in favor of his discovery. Perhaps using the luck potion had granted him good fortune.

The rotted floorboard had broken, and the darkness underneath hid a small wooden box carved with intricate snakes.

"Yes!" shouted Felix. "I found it!"

He snatched up the box with nary a worry for any enchantments. Luckily there were none surrounding the box. Ignoring his sore ankle, he hobbled back to the front room where Snape was finishing the last of the Red Caps from that room. One right above Snape held up a nastily sharp rock, but Felix managed to unbalance it and make it fall to the floor below. The rock the Red Cap had been holding landed right on top of it. He only spared it a quick glance before tugging Snape from the house.

A well-placed spell from Felix's wand caused the house to crumble and crush the rest of the vile creatures.

Down at the bottom of the hill, the two collapsed into two undignified heaps. Felix stashed the box into his bag and panted for breath. Snape watched the younger man carefully for any sign of the impending heart failure. He took out the two required potions and thrust them at Felix. Disgruntled, Felix drank both in turn, trusting and exhausted enough to not dare question the Master of Potions.

"Off with the shirt."

Felix waggled his eyebrows. "Oh, eager, are we?"

"Yes," was the ironic reply. "I've been waiting for the opportune moment to get into your pants, and coming out of a situation like that nearly unscathed seems like the perfect opportunity. You are smarter than I gave you credit for."

The blond snorted, but took off his shirt. "I'm pretty sure I sprained my ankle as well. That's how I found the ring."

Snape made a noise of impatience, but said nothing as he began working on rubbing the bruising paste onto Felix's shoulders and back, then once more on his chest where a bruise had formed around his heart. Throughout it all, the two kept silent to ponder over what had just transpired. Snape finally put the jar and empty potion phials away and moved to look at the injured ankle. He grimaced at the swelling and looked up to see Felix putting his ruined shirt back on.

"I'll have to take care of this back at Spinner's End," he intoned, stretching his neck.

And in less than a minute they had Felix stretched out on what he dubbed as "his" couch with his foot at the other end of the drab furniture. Tenderly, Snape took off Felix's shoe. Felix hissed as his ankle moved, but made no other sound as he let his head fall onto the armrest.

Felix addressed to the ceiling, "Why were Red Caps there? There's no castle in sight. The Riddle Manor was probably the closest thing to a castle there. And so many!" He rubbed a hand over his tired eyes. "I know there was violence in the house a long time ago, and the town is full of muggles, but…"

"'An Englishman's home is his castle'," quoted Snape. "Perhaps that was the Dark Lord's defense. How he lured them there, we shall never know. We also will never know if they just showed up or if they _were_ his defense."

"I wonder how Dumbledore got past them the first time," Felix mused aloud.

Snape rolled his eyes. "The headmaster _did_ defeat one of the most powerful wizards alive. He is also one of the most brilliant minds alive. Despite his age, he is strong."

"True…" Felix sighed. "No use worrying about it, I suppose. I got the ring, and that's all that matters."

Snape leveled his gaze at him. "Did you check the box, or just assume it was in there?"

Felix opened his mouth to shoot a scathing retort, but closed his mouth with a sharp _click_. He quickly fished out the box and examined the designs with a disgusted look. "If it's not in here and all that was for nothing _so help me_-"

With Snape watching on from the corner of his dark eyes, Felix ripped the top of the box open. Inside, nestled in some white cloth, was the ring that had cursed Albus Dumbledore so many years in the past and yet just a few years into the future. He released a sigh of relief and laid his head back again; he hoped that taking his eyes away would avert the strange, and rather strong, urge to place the ring on his finger.

"We have it."

"Good." Snape nodded his head sharply in determination. "Because if that wasn't it, I would have left your ankle be and let you fend for yourself."

"Hey!" Felix folded his arms and glared at him in indignation. "I thought you were helping me!"

"I was not aware you could think."

Felix's glare grew darker.

"I was joking."

"Since when do you _joke_?"

"I believe you are the one to bring out that horrid part of me." Snape wrapped the injured ankle and nodded in satisfaction. "That should do."

"I- but- You!" Felix spluttered, finally at a loss for words. Snape was just so infuriating! "_'That should do'_?" He huffed at the emotionless mask that turn towards him. Then he saw the small crinkle in the corner of Snape's eye that showed _just how amusing_ he found the situation. "You are _so- __**infuriating**_! I don't know why I put up with you." He threw his hands up into the air in defeat.

Snape patted Felix's knee with a smirk. He stood and moved towards the kitchen to make them a late lunch. "I'm afraid you'll have to for a while yet," he called from the kitchen. "You need me to get into the castle."

Felix grumbled, but settled back onto the old couch; he had a feeling Snape did not want him to move around much, and after they ate and cleaned up would restrict him back to his bed until they went to Hogwarts. Well, if Snape was going to be that way, then Felix would be ornery right back. He knew how to do that, of course, being the son of a Marauder and all. He and Ron had had tons of practice annoying Hermione to exasperation throughout their years at Hogwarts and even beyond.

That thought sent a pang to his heart. He missed his friends dearly, especially the look of fond exasperation Hermione would give them at their antics, and the way Ron would always mutter "_mission accomplish_" when they managed to get her away from her work…

But thinking about them would not bring them back, and would only hurt him more in the end.

Felix grinned and rubbed his hands together. He just managed to keep a please chuckle from escaping. Instead, he cleared his throat and gave Snape an innocent look when he looked in on the other man.

Yes… He knew _just_ how to keep himself from going mad with boredom.


End file.
